


Finders Keepers

by hawk_soaring



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawk_soaring/pseuds/hawk_soaring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs finds something he lost years ago… but is it too damaged to salvage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finders Keepers

Title: Finders Keepers  
Author: Hawk  
Fandom: NCIS  
Pairing: G/D  
Rating: FRAO (eventually)  
Summary: Gibbs finds something he lost years ago… but is it too damaged to salvage?  
Warnings: AU, Slave!fic, M/M, descriptions of abuse

~*~*~

  
“Let’s go, people,” Gibbs barked as he grabbed his gear and headed toward the elevator.

His crew hustled to follow him, strapping on their weapons and tucking away their agency IDs as they moved. The last one slipped into the elevator as the doors were closing.

“Glad you could join us, Officer David,” Gibbs snapped.

Ziva stared at the numbers above the door, knowing better than to take the bait. Something was up with Gibbs today and she wasn’t stupid enough to face off with her boss when he was obviously looking for an argument.

“What have we got, Boss?” McGee asked as they piled into the truck.

“Dead Marine in Alexandria. According to the local LEOs, there is a civilian DB also. They called us in when they found the military ID on the second body.” Gibbs sighed as he wove the truck in and out of traffic. “I expect the scene is already contaminated, but I want it contained quickly. I’ve already told the locals I want the scene sealed until we get there.”

“Right, Boss. Any name on the Marine?”

Gibbs frowned and McGee picked up the thread of the conversation before the Boss could snap anyone’s head off again.

“I’ve got a Lt. Martin Johnson. Already got Abby working on the ID. She’s also pulling his record – should have all available information by the time we hit the scene.”

Gibbs nodded. He’d sent the information to Abby just before calling the team together and he was impressed that McGee would have already contacted her to see how her research was going – not that he’d let the young man know that. He liked having his crew slightly off-balance. They worked harder that way.

The house smelled of death. It was a stench that was unmistakable and he sighed. They weren’t going to learn much from the bodies until they could get them back to NCIS where Ducky could do the autopsies. He watched his crew work the room, snapping pictures, sketching the scene, and gathering any evidence they found – bagging and tagging, they called it.

Once he was satisfied that Ziva and McGee could finish up in the main room, he nodded to Stan Burley to scout out the rest of the dwelling with him. Two small bedrooms yielded no additional information – unless you counted the fact that this guy was a slob as important evidence. No – what they were looking for was something to tell them why a Marine Lieutenant was slumming with the owner of this house.

The only things they knew so far were: the Lt. was supposed to ship out to Iraq in two weeks time; the owner of the house had a rap sheet as long as Gibbs’ arm, having been arrested for everything from breaking and entering to prostitution; and there was a ton of money in a metal box they had found in the top desk drawer of the computer desk they’d found in one corner of the smaller of the two bedrooms. The computer had been boxed up for Abby and, hopefully, she would be able to pull something interesting off it.

Gibbs looked out into the living room again as Burley rattled the doorknob of the only room they hadn’t yet checked. “Got any keys in the owner’s pocket, Duck?” Gibbs called.

The Medical Examiner looked up quickly before gingerly wriggling his gloved hand into the right front pocket of the man’s pants. Gibbs watched as Ducky grinned and pulled a small key ring from the pocket before tossing it to Jethro. Gibbs caught the ring one-handed and passed it to Burley.

“You got an estimate on the TOD for me, Duck?” Gibbs asked, knowing full well that he might not get a realistic answer to his question.

Ducky sighed and stood, massaging his knees gingerly before straightening and walking to where Gibbs waited. “Well, Jethro, as you know, it is a bit difficult to pin-point the exact time of death when more than a day has passed. I would say, however, that these poor devils have been deceased for at least three days – give or take twelve hours.”

Gibbs grinned at the older man before turning back to where Stan Burley had pushed open the door to the last remaining unchecked room in the house.

“Oh man,” the young agent breathed as he stepped into the room.

The sound of the emotion in the other man’s voice made Gibbs step into the room quickly, pushing Burley out of his way as he blocked his view of the room’s contents.

“Duck,” he said softly. “We made need you in here. Looks like we may have a dead slave.”

Ducky patted Jethro’s shoulder as he walked past the other man, leaving him to stand by the door. He knew Jethro wouldn’t want to get too close to the cage the poor young man had died in.

The medical examiner tsked as he walked to the cage. Wrapping his fingers in the mesh, he stared at the lean body in front of him. “Oh my dear young man – whatever put you in this position?” he asked softly.

The door to the cage was locked with a huge padlock that gleamed in the light spilling into the room from the hallway. The room itself had no lights – or windows, for that matter. No, this young man had died alone – and in the dark.

Ducky sighed. “We’re going to need to get this cage open, Jethro. Is the key on that ring I gave you, perhaps?”

Stan Burley stepped forward, giving his boss one long silent look as he left him standing very still beside the open door. As Stan fumbled with the keys, Ducky took stock of the young man in the cage.

He was lying on his side, and he had most likely fallen over as he weakened from dehydration or lack of food. His head was toward the door, suggesting that he had been facing the closed portal when he was chained inside the cage on his knees. The shackles on his wrists were fastened to those around his ankles, keeping him on his knees, even though the cage itself wouldn’t allow a grown man to stand upright. Apparently, the slave’s owner liked to pose his slave when he caged him.

There was a water bottle attached to the side of the cage as well as a bowl of slave kibble in the front corner of the enclosure but, since the slave was wearing a muzzle, the straps fastened tightly around his head, holding his jaw closed, he wouldn’t have been able to avail himself of the life-saving fluid or the food.

Ducky grumbled softly at the cruelty of some slave masters as he growled at Stan Burley to hurry up and get the cage open. The sight of the too still body lying chained on the floor tore at his heart and he risked a glance over his shoulder to see how Gibbs was holding up. It was obvious to the older man that his friend was having difficulty with the scenario, but Ducky didn’t have time to make sure he was okay, and calling attention to his discomfort would only embarrass the man so he kept quiet.

Turning back to the cage once again, he snapped at Stan. “Well? What’s taking you so long?”

Stan backed away from the cage, shaking his head. “The key isn’t on here, Ducky.”

Ducky swore softly under his breath and sighed. “Jethro – I have to get this cage open. Where would the key be?”

Just then Ziva walked into the room. Taking in the position of the body and the cruelty with which he had been chained, she turned and spied the keys hanging just to the left of the open door. She snagged the keys quickly and held them out.

Ducky grabbed the keys and fumbled with them as he tried to open the cage. Finally Stan sighed and took the keys out of his fumbling fingers. It took only a moment longer to get the cage open.

Ducky immediately dropped to his knees and reached into the cage. Rolling the young man’s body forward, he looked at the slave number tattooed on his left shoulder blade.

“Jethro – I think you need to see this,” Ducky said softly as he looked over his shoulder.

Gibbs met his eyes and shook his head, even as he started to move toward the cage.

Ziva took out her notebook and began writing. “7-9-5-4-6…”

“One,” Gibbs said softly as he stepped up close to the cage.

Ziva looked up at him quickly. “How did you?” She huffed. “You couldn’t have seen his number from across the room, Gibbs.”

At his silence she sighed. “Well, I’m going to call this in to Abby and get her to run him through the system.”

“There’s no need for that,” Gibbs offered.

“What do you mean?” she asked quickly.

“He – he belongs to me,” Gibbs said quietly as he stared into Ducky’s sad eyes. At the medical examiner’s nod he stepped to the opening of the cage and knelt down. He reached out his hand and Stan put the keys into his palm. Taking a deep breath, he knee-walked into the cage and began trying keys in the locks around the slave’s wrist restraints. As he touched the cool hands, the slave’s fingers twitched and he gasped. “Duck! Get in here. I think he’s still alive.”

~*~*~  


A/N: For KinkBingo: prompt, bondage, immobility


End file.
